


Harem of One

by astudyinotters753



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: But with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, M/M Sex, Mild Angst, NSFW, Pining, harem au, pining!Eggsy, smitten!harry, technically they're pining for each other...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 22:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4076266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinotters753/pseuds/astudyinotters753
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a post from fangirlscout's tumblr and fanart from maxkennedy-requests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sexxica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/gifts).



            He is dressed simply the first time Harry sees him, the very small, ratty loincloth tied crookedly around his waist and plain leather bracers tied around his arms a far cry from the rest of the opulence that surrounds them.  Harry watches as the muscles ripple and bunch under miles of his tanned, golden skin as he reaches for a jug of wine, carefully pouring it into two jewel-encrusted golden goblets.  Harry feels his pulse flutter as the boy bends down to pick up a small basket of what Harry will later find out are the driest samosa he’s ever eaten, the bottom swell of the boy’s rear peeking out from where his loincloth has raised just a hair too much.  Harry is aware that he’s staring, yet he cannot tear his eyes away from the boy, watching as he slowly walks towards him, the basket balanced on his hip, tray in his hand, eyes glued to the floor.  A wine-filled goblet is pressed into his hand, and the boy gestures silently to the numerous cushions scattered in a circle in the middle of the floor.  Harry takes a small sip of the wine, his nose crinkling at the taste, and then the boy finally lifts his chin and eyes that are impossibly blue and bright, peer up from underneath thick, kohl-lined lashes to meet Harry’s own gaze.  Harry drops the goblet.

            Pandemonium erupts as the wine spills and soaks into expensive rug beneath his feet, the boy instantly falling to his knees to dab hastily at the spill with the edge of his loincloth.  The boy is murmuring panicked words under his breath, but Harry finds that he cannot focus on them; his attention is shamelessly glued to the smooth, nearly hairless flesh of the boy’s exposed inner thigh.  Harry’s gaze trails up slowly, taking in the way that the boy’s leg joins with his body, how every new inch of his skin is the same warm, golden color of the rest of him.  Harry is barely able to wonder if the boy is normally kept naked when the door to the room bursts open, rattling on its hinges, revealing who Harry assumes is the owner of the _Black Prince_.

            “What have you done this time?” the man barks, stalking forward to fist a hand tightly in the boy’s hair, pulling up sharply.

            Tears well in the boy’s eyes as he babbles incomplete phrases at the man.  “Dean,” he whimpers as he squirms, his voice tight where it’s caught in his throat.  “I didn’t… was an accident… please believe… I didn’t…”

            The boy’s babbling is cut short as the man, Dean, tightens his grip, holding him in place as his other hand flies in a fist towards his face.  The punches catch the bottom of the boy’s jaw, and the last blow sends him hurtling to the floor with a choked-off groan, his wine-stained hands rising to cradle his jaw.  The boy’s blue eyes glare defiantly up at Dean, yet no more words fall from between his plush lips.  

            When Dean raises his hand and makes to hit the boy again, Harry finally steps forward and wraps strong fingers around Dean’s wrist, a dangerous glint in his eyes.  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he says, his voice eerily calm and steady, grip tight around Dean’s wrist.

            Dean raises an eyebrow at him and smirks.  “Why not?  He’s my fuck-up of a slave.  I can do whatever I please to him.”

            Harry smiles minutely, the corners of his mouth barely quirking up.  “Because I came here with the intentions of purchasing one of your slaves.  And I believe I have made my choice.”

            Dean laughs at him and gestures around the room.  “Come now, you’ve barely seen what I have to offer.  How can you have made a decision, when the best is yet to come, hmm?”

            Harry’s smile tightens as he straightens his spine.  “I don’t need to see anyone else; I’ve already seen the best.”

            “All right then,” Dean huffs, shaking his head, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.  “Which one will you take with you?”

            Instead of answering, Harry bends over and gently hooks his fingers under the boy’s chin and tilts his face up, eyes scanning over his face for any signs of fear.  “Will you come along with me?” he asks, his voice hardly more than a warm whisper.

            The boy’s jaw falls slack against his fingers, and his eyebrows crease the center of his forehead.  “You want me?” he asks, eyes darting back and forth from Harry’s face to Dean’s.

            “I do,” Harry affirms, his hands pulling away to linger in front of him, outstretched.  “But only if you wish to come along with me.  I do not wish to take you away against your will.”

            The boy’s breath hitches in his chest as he stares hard at Harry.  After a long moment, he nods once and lays his hand on Harry’s and allows the taller man to help him up.  

            Dean’s face makes its way through various shades of red before deciding on a dark puce, the veins winding up his throat visibly throbbing as Harry wrapped an arm around the boy’s waist.  “Him?” he splutters, spittle frothing at the corners of his lips.  “You want _him_?”

            “I believe I already made my choice clear,” Harry says, his voice even.  “Now you just have to name your price.”

            Dean just shakes his head and waves a hand towards the door, fist knocking off the basket of samosas.  “Just take him and go,” he wheezes.  “I’ll be happy to never see him again.”

            The boy deflates at Dean’s words and Harry rushes to shuffle him out of the harem.  When they are outside, Harry offers the boy his hand once more and asks his name.  Barely discernable from the cacophony of noise coming from the house behind him, Harry hears the boy murmur, “Eggsy.”


	2. Chapter 2

            He is confused when Harry takes his time wandering around the _Black Prince_ after Dean storms off, making sure that all of Eggsy’s meagre belongings are packed and secured to Harry’s camel.  The whole process takes no more than an hour, and before he can wrap his mind around what’s happening, he’s being helped up on to the camel behind Harry, and then they’re moving.  His heart is hammering in his chest, and as he cautiously wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, barely touching him as if he’d get burned.  His stomach is twisting and rolling, and he feels like he could faint at any time.  Looking over his shoulder, he watches as the _Black Prince_ slowly disappears from view, and he can’t help but wonder if this is how his mother left when she ran away with his baby sister all those years ago.

            They ride in silence, and it doesn’t take long for Eggsy to want a bit of conversation.  The uneven thunking steps of Harry's’ camel eventually become washed out as the ride lingers on, and just as Eggsy is opening his mouth to say something, Harry speaks.

            He rattles on about the various things they pass, his voice growing more gravely and hoarse with each tidbit of information he shares.  Eggsy’s mouth clicks shut as he listens, enraptured, as Harry tells him about what you can find in all the little shops in the next town up, and a small grin spreads across his lips when Harry wistfully mentions the tea shoppe.

            The remaining hours of travelling to Harry’s home pass quickly, and they arrive just as the sun is starting to disappear beyond the horizon.  Harry helps him off the camel, and guides him around the sprawling home, telling him about each room they walk through and each person they pass.  Eventually, they walk through a set of extravagantly carved double doors, the wood rich and dark.  Inside, Eggsy’s bags are lying on the floor at the foot of a plush looking bed fitted with silk sheets, gauzy blankets, and more pillows than he knows what to do with.  On the center of the bed lies a complete change of expensive looking clothes and a small, wooden box.  

            Harry lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, the touch light as a whisper, as if the older man isn’t sure he’s allowed to touch Eggsy.  “This is your room,” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing miniscule circles on the side of Eggsy’s neck.  “I’ll leave you to get settled.  Dinner will be served in an hour, and I’d be honored if you’d join me.”

            Eggsy turns and smiles up at Harry briefly, leaning into the man’s touch as best as he can.  “And after dinner?”  Eggsy asks, fluttering his lashes the way Dean taught him.  “Is there anything special you want me to wear?”

            Harry snatches his hand away as if it had been burned, leaving it to awkwardly dangle at his side.  “That won’t be…” he starts, words trailing off to nothing as he pauses to clear his throat.  “What I mean is…” another pause, another cough.  “You can wear whatever you are most comfortable in,” he finally finishes, the tops of his cheeks turning slightly rosy.  He nods once, as if satisfied with his answer, and retreats from Eggsy’s room, leaving the door slightly ajar as he goes.  Chuckling, Eggsy turns and faces the bed and opens the box.  

            Inside is a set of delicate, gold bangles that he knows will make the most delightful sound as he moves his wrist.  Carefully, he pulls them out, one by one, and slips them over his hand, smiling as they pile up on his wrist.  Reverently, he twists his wrist back and forth, his mouth falling open in awe at the quiet tinkling.  They sound wonderful, and look even better, and as Eggsy turns and catches sight of his reflection in the floor-length mirror, his eyes zero in on the bracelets.  

            He knows, like every pleasure slave, that jewelry is given to those that are cherished.  After his mother left, Dean gave jewelry away to his Harem like it was going out of style.  The young women paraded around, glittering with gold, silver, and jewels, each new addition being admired and fawned over by the whole group.  Eggsy never received a piece of jewelry from Dean, and looking back on it now, he’s grateful that his first, real piece of jewelry - aside from the earrings his mother left him - came from Harry.

            He takes his time admiring the bangles on his arm, carefully slipping each one off to stack them back in the box when it’s time to bathe before dinner.  He washes himself thoroughly, and dresses in the clothes Harry had chosen for him.  The bangles are put on again, and as his stomach lurches and flutters as he’s guided to dinner by one of Harry’s maids.  

            Harry is standing by his seat at the table when Eggsy walks in, gold glittering pleasantly on his wrist.  He smiles as Eggsy approaches him, and the breath hitches in his chest when one of Eggsy’s hands raise to rest on his arm.  The boy makes a move as if to kneel before him, and a puzzled look creases his eyebrows as Harry shakes his head.  “You don’t need to do that for me,” he explains, walking with Eggsy to pull out his chair for him.  “I never want you to do anything you don’t want to.”

            Eggsy nods dumbly as he sits down, eyes dropping to the beautiful place setting before him.  They eat dinner together, and Eggsy ends up pushing more food around his plate than he eats.  He doesn’t understand why Harry would turn up at a place like the _Black Prince_ and leave with a pleasure slave he had no intention of using.  After dinner, he slips back to his room and retires for the night, falling into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I know this is short. After I'm finished with this piece, I'll clean it up and re-configure the chapters so they're not as quick. Right now, I'm just posting what I finish in a night, (while juggling full time work and full time university) so I hope this is ok!


	3. Chapter 3

            He wakes the next morning to find a small box, nearly identical to the one from last night, sitting on the small table beside his bed.  He spends a few moments staring at the smooth wood, then shakes his head and rolls out of bed.  He dresses in the most conservative clothes he can find in the closet Harry had shown him the day before, and spends most of his day wandering the grounds.  Harry’s home is truly beautiful, complete with a small menagerie of animals and an immaculately tended garden in the back.  He finds a small clearing in the back between some lush trees, and he climbs in to sit against the trunks without a second thought.  

            The shade is wonderfully cool against his heated skin, and the slight gurgling of a nearby brook is a beautiful distraction from his thoughts.  After a while, the quiet noise of the running water is not distraction enough, and Eggsy falls prey to the confusing tangle of thoughts and emotions trapped in his head.

            On one hand, he’s genuinely relieved and gloriously happy that Harry didn’t seem to want him the way one usually wants a pleasure slave.  Yet, the same fact also brings him worry, and if he is honest with himself, disappointment as well.  Harry is an undeniably attractive man, and Eggsy knows he’d be a considerate lover.  He also knows that Harry is kinder and thousands of times better than the men that Dean had lent him out to back at the Black Prince.  

            He cannot help but wonder if, because he is no longer considered pure, that he is tainted, that Harry does not want him.  He wonders if he just isn’t Harry’s type, and cannot stop the traitorous visions that flood his mind: Harry pinning one of the pretty maids against the wall of his bedroom, their bodies rocking together as Harry enters her over and over again; Harry pulling one of the breathtaking gardeners inside the house to take her roughly in his bed; Harry kissing the butler senseless before undressing him and ravaging him on the cushions in the sitting room.  Groaning, Eggsy cradles his head in his hands and allows the visions to work their way through his system.  

            Hours later, he’s ushered back into the house by the same gardener he’d been dreaming about.  He washes himself and has a quick dinner before dashing back to hide away in his room.  The little box from earlier has been moved from the table beside his bed to rest innocently on top of his pillow.  Eggsy opens it, stares inside at the gleaming, gold earrings for a few heartbeats, and then shuts the box.  He hides it away at the back of his closet, tucking the small box beside it’s brother before covering it with his old loin cloth and the clothes he wore to last night’s dinner.  

            He tosses and turns for hours before he finally drifts off into a fitful sleep, the visions from earlier quickly turning into an endless nightmare.  He jolts awake with a scream to an empty, quiet house.  None of his old harem are there to chastise him about making noise.  Dean doesn’t storm in and slap him across the face for being loud.  And Harry, wonderfully kind Harry, does not come either.  He tries so hard not to be disappointed, to squash down the aching emptiness he feels throbbing inside the pit of his stomach.  

            Eggsy finally lies down again after some time, pulling the thin blankets tight around his shoulders.  A single, bitter tear betrays him by streaking down the side of his face, soaking into the pillow underneath him, and he has to time his breathing to counting numbers to prevent more from following.  The silence in the house is unsettling, but Eggsy finally drifts back off to sleep after dawn, the twitter of a few birds comforting him.

            The next day when he awakes, there’s a small, wrapped parcel on the table beside his bed.  Eggsy ignores this package, too, and makes his way back to the clearing to think.  When he’s hunted down for lunch, he’s informed that Harry is away for a business meeting, and that he’ll return in three days time.  Eggsy spends the time Harry is gone alternating between wandering the grounds aimlessly, and tossing and turning at night.  Every morning, a new package is placed on his bedside table, and every morning, Eggsy ignores them.

            Harry eventually returns nearly a week later, and brings with him a large wooden box containing a trio of gold necklaces inlaid with glittering gems.  Eggsy accepts the gift with a tight smile, an uncomfortable “Thank you,” and a swift retreat to his clearing.  This gift joins the other pieces of jewelry in the back of Eggsy’s closet, and he does his best to forget about it.

            The daily gifts continue, and after a month of ignoring them, Eggsy finally opens them.  Harry gives him books and trinkets, mostly small things he picks up from markets when he travels.  He gives him small paintings and tiny tapestries that quickly cover the walls of his room.  Harry also gives him expensive clothes and golden jewelry, and Eggsy can’t help but spend a little time in his closet every night, admiring each and every one of Harry’s gifts, his fingers stroking over the book’s spines, the silk clothes, the polished gold.  In the unnatural stillness of the night, he admits to himself in half-whispered words that he desires to wear Harry’s gifts, that he wants to be a good pleasure slave for him.  In the light of the day, Eggsy continues on getting to know Harry, and does his best to suppress his feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is just a small bit. Sorry for the long delay, school work has been insane. I'm hoping to update again during the weekend, but it may not happen. I'm heading out of town for Monday, but will return with an update on Tuesday for sure.


	4. Chapter 4

       The question spills out of his traitorous mouth nearly six months later.  Harry has been working in his study for most of the morning, murmuring under his breath while Eggsy reads on the floor beside Harry’s feet, his nimble fingers turning page after page until he’s gone through two books.  The question cycles through his mind a few times throughout the morning, as it does every day, increasing in frequency as the day goes on.  By the time lunch is carried in on a platter by one of Harry’s butlers, the question is nearly on a repeated loop, and he finds he can’t concentrate on the words- now blending together in an incomprehensible blur- written in his book.

       He turns his focus to pick through the assortment of fruits, cheese, unleavened bread, and dried, salted meats spread out on a silver platter, taking care to avoid bumping Harry’s hand with his own.  When they’re finished and the platter is empty, the same butler that brought the spread comes back, collects the tray, and leaves with a slight bow of his head.  Eggsy frowns as he notices that the man wears the exact same clothes that the other people around Harry’s home, and comes to the conclusion that they must all have uniforms.  Everyone except for him.  The space between his eyebrows creases as the question comes back once more and taunts him.

       He almost doesn’t hear Harry when he begins speaking, only tuning in to catch the very end of a question that he can’t piece together no matter how hard he tries.  “Huh?” he breathes, his book shutting with a whispered flutter of pages.  He can hear Harry smile a strained smile, and then he repeats himself.

       As Eggsy listens, he comes to the shocked conclusion that Harry is asking him, innocently, why he never wears any of the jewelry he’d been given.  In lieu of answering, Eggsy just blurts out the horrific question, “Why did you buy me?” and instantly feels the color drain from his face.

       Harry is quiet for a moment, setting down his pen to stare at the crown of Eggsy’s head.  “You were too beautiful for me not to,” he murmurs, his voice perfectly steady even as his hands begin to shake.

       Eggsy hunches in on himself and swallows thickly as he feels bile churn in his stomach and burn at the base of his throat.  “If I’m too beautiful, then why don’t you want me?” he squeaks out, his knuckles turning paper white where they’re clutched around the book.

       The room is silent for a few long moments, and panic wells tightly in Eggsy’s chest.  He can hear the frantic beating of his own heart, and he’s sure that the faint, wheezing breaths he’s gasping in are audible, too.  He squeezes his eyes shut tightly until he can see colored spots dance behind his eyelids, and fervently wishes that the ground would just swallow him up.

       Instead, Harry tilts his head inquisitively to the side.  “What on earth makes you think I don’t want you?” he counters, voice wavering at the end.

       At this point, Eggsy’s face has gone clammy and it’s almost painful for him to work past the thick lump that’s tightening his throat.  It’s nearly impossible to breathe, let alone speak the fragmented sentences rolling around unfinished in his brain.  Eventually, he manages, “because you won’t let me service you.”

       Harry’s jaw drops at his words, audibly clicking shut a few heartbeats later.  “Oh my boy,” he murmurs, moving from his chair to kneel stiffly beside Eggsy.  “Look at me, my sweet, wonderful boy.”

       At the touch of Harry’s fingertips to his chin, Eggsy turns his head, his eyes the size of dinner plates, and meets Harry’s unbridled gaze.  He nervously wets his lips, and his eyes flicker quickly down to Harry’s lips before snapping back up to his eyes.

       “I’m such a fool,” Harry whispers, ghosting the pad of his thumb across Eggsy’s zygomatic arch.  

       Eggsy’s eyes flutter shut at the touch, and it takes everything he has not to lean into the warmth of Harry’s hand.  

       “I went to the Black Prince to buy a pleasure slave because it was expected of me,” he began, his voice soft and gentle.  “I thought I would go in, buy the slave that had the most fight, and give them their freedom.  I never intended to buy a pleasure slave for sex, Eggsy.”

       Eggsy’s jaw falls slightly open at Harry’s words, yet remains silent, urging Harry to continue.

       “And then you walked into the room.  You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were the one I had to take home with me,” he continued, allowing his hand to slide down to cup Eggsy’s neck, thumb tracing the smooth line of his jaw.  “But when you smiled at me, my dear one, I couldn’t deny that I wanted you.”

       Eggsy tensed under Harry’s touch, the frown returning to his face.  “Then why not have me?” he breathed, voice cracking.

       Very slowly, Harry drew back and brought one of Eggsy’s hands up to kiss the back of his knuckles.  “Because,” he murmured into the skin, pressing his cheek against the back of Eggsy’s hand, “I never want to take anything from you that you do not want to give.”

       Harry fell silent for a moment, and Eggsy took it as an opportunity to talk.  “But I want to service you.  Harry, you bought me as a pleasure slave regardle-”

       “I do not want a pleasure slave,” Harry interrupted, his eyes turning hard around the edges.  

       The directness of that statement made the breath hitch in Eggsy’s chest.  They were silent for a few, long moments, time stretching on until it felt as if a millennia has passed.  Finally, Eggsy breathes, “then what do you want, Harry?”  

       Harry brushes another kiss against his knuckles and squeezes his hand gently.  “I want a lover,” he breathes, barely loud enough for Eggsy to hear him.  “I want you.”

       Eggsy’s heart skips a few beats as his mind sluggishly manages to comprehend Harry’s words.  His reply gets stuck in his throat, and when he realises that he cannot construct any sort of answer beyond a series of panicked squeaks and wheezy breaths, he rises hastily from his spot on the floor and runs out the door, leaving Harry awkwardly sprawled on the floor behind him.  Then, without even a sparing glance over his shoulder, Eggsy flees to the safety of his room.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I wasn't able to update over the weekend, everyone. My out of town thing went really well, and I'm back home and settled in to the daily grind once more. There should be another update either Wednesday or Thursday, as the next part is almost done being written, I just need to clean it up a bit.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you've enjoyed! Also, thank you to all who have left comments and/or kudos to this work. I'm just tickled you're all enjoying it enough to let me know.


	5. Chapter 5

        He panics as soon as the doors to his room close shut behind him.  His breathing comes fast, and he feels his skin turn clammy as Harry’s admission repeats endlessly throughout his mind.  He’s not sure how long he spends nearly hyperventilating in his room, but his musings are cut short when one of Harry’s butlers knocks on his door to politely inform him that dinner is to be served in an hour.

        He slumps on his bed and cradles his head in his hands, fingers digging in to grip at his short hair.  “Harry wants him,” he thinks to himself, the words falling from his lips in a breath.  “Harry wants him.”  Eggsy sits

        After a moment, he allows himself to be swept away by a whirlwind of thoughts.  He imagines what it would be like to have Harry like a lover, wonders if Harry would treat him any differently.  He closes his eyes and sees vision after vision flash behind his eyelids, countless moments of what they could have.  It makes Eggsy’s heart ache with want, and it takes him another half an hour to convince himself that he could really, really have something meaningful with Harry if he allowed himself to take a chance.  So, with a breath, Eggsy rises from his bed, washes as thoroughly as he can, and dresses for dinner.

        When Eggsy pads into dinner, some half an hour late, Harry feels his jaw drop open on its own accord.  Before him, Eggsy is a vision, his golden skin nearly glistening in the candle light.  Every step he takes is accompanied by a cheerful tinkle, the golden anklets Harry had given him upon his arrival shifting against one another.  His hands rest at his sides, the heavy bangles on his forearms whispering to one another with every minute movement Eggsy makes, and the fingers of his left hand are adorned with various rings.  Harry smiles when he recognizes the ring stamped with his family insignia sitting proudly on Eggsy’s forefinger.

        The rest of his hands are covered in intricate henna, sepia flowers, vines, and feathers weaving up his hands to curl delicately around his fingers, ending in a trail of swirls and dots.  Thick, gold cuffs wrap around Eggsy’s biceps, and Harry can’t help but notice how the sturdiness of the jewelry accents Eggsy’s subtle strength.  

        Eggsy is covered from hips to the middle of his thighs by cream-colored linen, the fabric held in place by a gold-plated belt.  His torso is covered in a spiderweb of gold and jewels; strings of rubies, sapphires, and emeralds draped artistically from his neck.  Compared to the rest of his jewelry, the pair of gold hoops in the crest of Eggsy’s left ear look plain.  Harry thinks that the crystal studs glittering in his lobes are somewhat better, more along the lines of what Eggsy deserves, but it’s the sight of Eggsy’s eyes, outlined in smudged kohl, that make his breath catch in his chest.  Harry can’t help but think back to the first time he saw Eggsy’s eyes, so deep and blue and full of something.  

        Now, Harry has seen a host of different emotions flit behind Eggsy’s eyes, and tonight, he sees something akin to hesitant pride glimmering, accompanied by Eggsy’s signature small smile, and Harry cannot help the way his heart swells as Eggsy calmly takes his seat across the table from him.

        “I’m sorry to make you wait,” Eggsy offers after a moment, fingers reaching out to wrap carefully around the filled wine goblet in front of him.  “It took longer to get dressed than I thought it would.”

        Harry nods at him and smiles.  “It’s quite alright, my dear one.  Please, eat as much as you wish.”

        They eat in silence for a while, the only sounds coming from the scrape of silverware against the plates, the quiet knocking of their goblets against the wood of the table.  Eventually, the curry is all gone, scooped up on spoons and seemingly endless loaves of naan, and the wine has all been drank, leaving Harry and Eggsy to steal glances at one another when the other isn’t looking.  

        It is only when the sun starts to set that Harry rises from his seat and retrieves a polished, wooden box from its spot on the floor.  He steps forward once, twice, and then sets the box down in front of Eggsy with shaking fingers, where his plate had been just moments ago.  He watches as Eggsy quirks an eyebrow up at him, a silent question that he answers with a small nod of his head.  Eggsy carefully opens the box, stares at the contents for a few, long moments, and then folds his hands in his lap.  

        The box is lined with soft, black velvet topped with the most beautifully intricate necklace Eggsy had ever seen.  It was thick, more like a decorative collar than a simple necklace, and made of perfectly polished gold.  In the middle is a perfect diamond surrounded by nine faintly yellow petal-shaped stones.  If Eggsy was to guess, he’d think they were probably diamonds, too.  

        The rest of the collar is embedded with hundreds of small, glittering diamonds, and more gold was beaded along the bottom edge.  At the very bottom, in the center, was a large tear drop cut ruby dangling from the bottom edge of another, smaller diamond flower.

        Tears well in the corners of Eggsy’s eyes, and he finds his gaze dropping to fixate on his hands as they fidget in his lap.  He’s seen necklaces like this, nearly everyone who’s been around a harem has.  It’s a Caste Collar, and Eggsy knows that it’s traditionally given to the chief slave in a harem.  It’s the highest honor a pleasure slave can achieve, and the knowledge that Harry- silly, traditionalist Harry- knows what it means and has given it to him anyways makes his heart beat frantically in his chest.

        “H-Harry, I…” he tapers off, pausing to clear his throat.

        Harry just shakes his head and smiles warmly at him.  “It is yours, dear one, should you choose to have it.”

        Eggsy gawks up at him, fingers finding their way to trail over the bumps of the jewels.  They share the same air for a moment, and then Harry is turning away from him and slipping through the door, his words hovering behind him in the air.  I’ll be in my study if you need me.

        Eggsy absentmindedly traces the diamond flowers on the collar for the better part of an hour.  And then, he closes the box, stands from his chair, and emits a rattling breath.  Tonight, he decides as he cradles the box gently in his arms, tonight he will stop denying himself.  Tonight, he will end the game of cat and mouse that they’ve been playing for the past three months.  Tonight, he will go to Harry, and he will not look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so after this, there's just one more chapter to go (or, at least I think there is). It will probably end up being quite a bit longer than the previous chapters, so bear with me if it takes a few days to get it out.
> 
> Once again, I want to thank every kind person who's reviewed/read/left kudos for this work. I have laughed until I was sure I'd pulled a muscle, and smiled so stupidly at my phone screen that my roommate has been concerned. You are all lovely people, and I'm so grateful that you've decided to come along this journey with me. I hope I can continue writing more Hartwin/Kingsman stuff in the near future! (Maybe even a florist/tattoo artist AU... hmmm)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack. I know I've been away far too long, but I'm hoping that the length of this chapter will make up for it. Just a warning for those who might have not noticed: the rating for this work is now Explicit. If you are considered underage in your country, or if reading about sexually intimate relationships makes you uncomfortable, please hit the back button. With that said, I'll leave the long AN for the end.

       When Eggsy meekly pushes the door open to Harry’s study, he feels the air thicken with smoke.  There, lounging in a dressing robe on a mound of plush pillows, is Harry, blowing smoke from his lips in a long exhale.  A hookah machine sits beside him, and Eggsy can smell the different notes of tobacco, cardamom, and cinnamon wafting in the smoke.

       “Did you not find my gift satisfactory?” Harry asks suddenly, putting down the mouthpiece of his machine.  

       “Huh?” Eggsy breathes quietly, fingers tightening around the box.

       Harry gestures to the box clutched in Eggsy’s hands.  “The collar.  Do you not like it?” he asks again.

       Eggsy shakes his head vehemently.  “No,” he murmurs, crossing the room to kneel before Harry.  “I love it.  I was actually hoping you’d help me put it on.”

       They are both silent for a few, lengthy moments, the only noise coming from each drag Harry pulls from the hookah mouthpiece.  The smoke turns hazy around them, and Eggsy finds his thoughts swimming and turning fuzzy around the edges.  Eventually, Harry finishes and pushes the machine to the side.  He then sits up and holds his hands out to take the box from Eggsy.

       Eggsy hands it over with a bow of his head, and his breath hitches in his throat when he watches Harry slowly open the box to stroke his fingers gently over the collar, just like he’d been doing before he came.  Then, Harry is lifting the Caste collar from the velvet insides, and the order for Eggsy to come closer is rumbling from his throat.

       Eggsy complies quickly, crawling forwards on his hands and knees until Harry can reach around his neck and fasten the collar’s clasp.  Eggsy whimpers as he feels the weight of the jewelry, sturdy as an anchor against the warm roughness of Harry’s touch.

       “How does it feel?” Harry asks, stroking the pads of his fingers along either edge of the collar.  He allows himself to linger for a moment before retracting his hands to settle them in his own lap.

       Eggsy squirms in front of him, a strangled noise of pleasure wringing it’s way from his throat.  “Good,” he manages.  “God, so, so good.”

       Harry smiles at him, his eyes glittering with fondness.  "It looks beautiful on you, dear one," he murmurs.

       Eggsy's head falls forward, his chin resting against the bottom of the Caste collar.  "Harry," he chokes out, his hands balling into tight fists where the rest on his knees, "Harry, it’s like you own me.”

       Harry's smile turns feral as his hands raise once more to guide Eggsy's gaze to his.  "My dear boy," he starts, gaze dropping to linger on Eggsy's lips, "I do own you."

       At Harry's words, Eggsy turns to putty where he kneels.  His cheeks blaze as his breath falls in hot puffs from between his lips.  His flesh is burning with need, and his mind is screaming at him for more.  Eggsy shifts his weight again, settling with his legs spread a little wider, his body a touch closer to Harry's.  His lips part as Harry’s name falls breathlessly from his mouth.

       “Yes, my dear?” Harry asks, thumb tracing the side of Eggsy’s chin.

       “Harry, I need,” he starts, snaking his tongue out to wet his lips.  “I need.”

       “And what do you need, sweetheart?” Harry asks, his thumb tracing along the seam of Eggsy’s lips.

       In lieu of an answer, Eggsy’s lips part at the weight of Harry’s finger, and his tongue flicks out again, wet and hot, to taste the salt of Harry’s skin.

       “Cheeky,” Harry comments, swiping his spit slicked finger along the rim of Eggsy’s lips.  

       “You love it,” Eggsy retorts, the edges of his mouth quirking up into a pleased smirk.

       Harry smiles warmly at him and nods once.  “I love you,” he admits, thumb stilling.

       Eggsy goes still for a moment, his hazy brain slowly processing Harry’s words.  Then, he opens his mouth and lets Harry’s name slip from his lips once more, his voice cracking slightly.

       “Yes, my dear?” Harry breathes, his eyes tracing Eggsy’s face.

       “Just to be clear, this is the bit where you kiss me,” Eggsy says, his eyes darting down to linger on Harry’s lips for a few heartbeats before raising to meet his gaze once more.

       “So demanding,” Harry murmurs as he leans forward, his breath puffing hotly against Eggsy’s mouth.  He waits until he sees Eggsy’s eyes flutter shut, until Eggsy’s breath hitch in anticipation, until Eggsy makes a soft, broken noise beneath him, and then he cannot wait anymore; he is leaning in, closing the remaining distance between them, and pressing his lips sweetly to Eggsy’s.

       For a long moment, the kiss remains chaste, and Eggsy begins to wonder if this is all that Harry wants, if even now, after all the months they’ve spent pining after one another, Harry is going to deny himself when he can finally take what he wants freely and without guilt.  Eggsy’s thoughts are interrupted by a swipe of Harry’s tongue across his lips and a hand tilting his head ever so slightly until the angle is perfect.  His hands come to rest on top of Harry’s forearms, and before long, he’s guiding Harry’s hands to his own waist, sighing happily into their kiss as the pads of Harry’s fingers brush against the warm skin of his waist.

       The kiss eventually breaks, but not before Eggsy has been hauled to straddle Harry’s lap, and his skin is starting to turn rosy with desire.  “Are you sure,” Harry begins, trailing a line of kisses down the side of Eggsy’s neck to worry a faint mark above his heart, “that you want this?”

       “Yes,” Eggsy hisses, fisting his hands in Harry’s hair in a failed attempt to keep his lips pressed against his.

       “I need for you to be absolutely sure,” Harry murmurs against his skin before pulling back to lock their gazes together.  “Because once I have you, I will never let you go.”

       Eggsy allows his eyes to droop half-way shut as he grinds down purposefully on Harry’s lap.  “I’ve never been more sure about anything,” he admits, carding his fingers gently through Harry’s hair.  

       For a moment, everything is still, the only sound coming from their mingled breathing, and to Eggsy, it feels as if time itself has ceased to exist.  Then, Harry is surging up and kissing him again, his lips feather soft as he guides them back into a heady rhythm, his hands gliding up the smooth planes of Eggsy’s back to pull him impossibly close.

       He is not sure when Harry’s robe becomes loose and slips off of his shoulders, but he revels in the sensation of finally feeling Harry’s warm skin pressed against his own.  His hands stroke down Harry’s slightly scarred pecs and his mostly flat stomach to rest teasingly on his hipbones, and Eggsy can’t help but preen at the needy noise his touch pulls from Harry’s throat.

       “Does that feel good?” he asks, squeezing Harry’s hips gently.

       Harry responds by sucking an enthusiastic mark just above the edge of Eggsy’s Caste collar.  

       “What about this?” Eggsy asks, pulling back to trail his hands lower, stroking the insides of Harry’s thighs slowly.

       “Fuck,” Harry groans and lets his head rest against Eggsy’s shoulder, his own hands reaching around to grip the globes of his arse.

       Eggsy grins and slides one hand up to cup the bulge of Harry’s erection.  “Then I bet this feels amazing,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head.  “You’re so hard already, Harry.  Gonna feel amazing once you’re inside me.”

       The next moment, Eggsy finds himself being pressed into the cushions, Harry’s body grinding into his own.  “You seem so sure I’m going to fuck you,” Harry growls, punctuating his hips with a deliciously slow thrust.  “How do you know I won’t just open you up and leave you unsatisfied and wanting?”

       Eggsy shivers and bucks his hips, desperately seeking friction, only to have Harry press down harshly.

       “Or I might just have you ride me instead,” Harry continues, pausing to flick his tongue over Eggsy’s right nipple.  “You’d look so beautiful writhing in my lap, my cock filling you up.”

       “Harry,” Eggsy breathes, a needy sound cutting off the rest of his sentence.  “Harry.”  Mercifully, Harry seems to know what he wants even without words, and kisses him so thoroughly that, for a moment, the kiss becomes the entirety of Eggsy’s world.  

       When he eventually pulls away, Eggsy whimpers at the loss, and Harry finds himself loathe to leave, even for a second.

       “Harry?” Eggsy questions, his eyes opening, brows creased in confusion.  “Is something wrong?”

       “No, my dear one,” Harry replies, smiling reassuringly at his lover.  “I just thought we’d need some oil if we’re to continue.”

       Eggsy’s cheeks flush a dusty rose at Harry’s words.  “Hurry back,” he says, a hand sliding down his smooth chest to rest over his own erection.

       “I will,” Harry replies, lingering in the doorway long enough to watch Eggsy reach beneath his loincloth to wrap his hand around his cock, stroking slowly.

       When Harry returns a few minutes later, a large vial of golden oil in his hands, he is treated to the sight of Eggsy unabashedly pleasuring himself.  His loincloth was pushed up to his waist, and his erection was rosy and glistening with smeared precome.  He cannot help but watch for a few, luxurious moments, enjoying the way Eggsy’s face contorts in pleasure with each pump of his hand.

       “You make quite a sight for sore eyes,” Harry says as he rejoins his lover on the cushions, leaning in to steal a quick kiss.

       Eggsy grins at him, twists his hand around the crown of his cock, and says, “I bet I’ll look even better when you fuck me.”

       “Is that so?” Harry ask, stroking a hand up Eggsy’s bare thigh.

       “Yeah,” Eggsy breathes, spreading his legs a bit to make room for Harry.

       “Well then,” Harry purrs, gliding his hand up to brush lightly at Eggsy’s balls  “Let’s see how you look around my fingers, first.”

       Eggsy moans at the first touch of Harry’s fingers against the skin behind his teticles.  He squirms a bit, causing the pads of Harry’s fingers to reach further back, brushing teasingly across his entrance.

       "So eager," Harry comments, rubbing circles over Eggsy's dry hole, relishing in the way the boy's breath hitched with each pass.  "I can't wait to be inside you."

       "Then get in me, Harry," Eggsy huffed, grinding his hips down in an attempt to get one of harry's fingers inside of him.

       "Have patience, my dear one," Harry murmurs, withdrawing his hand to ease the cork from the vial of oil.  "Good things come to those who wait."

       Once his hand was slick enough, Harry resumed his previous pattern, this time, taking care to smear slickness liberally around Eggsy's hole.  The occasional dip of a fingertip inside had Eggsy writhing beautifully beneath him, and when Harry finally pushed a single finger slowly inside his lover, Eggsy came untouched, painting his stomach with ropes of hot, sticky come.

       Harry held still as Eggsy came down from his orgasm, his own cock throbbing against the soft silk of his dressing gown.

       "Harry," Eggsy groans, raising an arm to drape over his eyes.  "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened.  Usually I las-"

       "Look at me," Harry interrupts, pulling Eggsy's arm away from his face with his free hand.  When Eggsy's embarrassed gaze meets his own, he continues.  "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

       Eggsy's brows furrow in confusion as he processes Harry's words.  "What?" he asks, "I thought you'd be mad I came too soon."

       Harry shakes his head and kisses the inside of Eggsy's wrist.  "I am more than happy to stop now if you need me to."

       Biting his lip, Eggsy rolls his hips again, a muffled whine of pleasure vibrating in his throat.  "Keep going," he says, breathless.

       Tentatively, Harry crooks his finger, feeling the rim slacken with the stretch.  "It's not too much?" he asks, repeating the motion.

       Eggsy shakes his head.  "No," he replies, his breath hitching when Harry rotates his finger.   "I still want you inside of me.  Harry, please."

       Harry nods and leans down to kiss Eggsy thoroughly, allowing him a brief moment of rest.  It is only when he feels Eggsy's cock throb against his thigh and the boy is writhing against his hand, that Harry finally pushes a second finger inside, groaning at the perfect way Eggsy clenches around him.  “You’re so tight,” he murmurs, scissoring his fingers apart, staring at the way Eggsy’s rim stretches obscenely.

       Eggsy heaves a breath and moans, his back arching in pleasure.  “H-Harry,” he pants, fingers grappling for purchase on the cushions.

       “Yes, my dear?” Harry says, pressing his fingers in as far as they’ll go, crooking them in an attempt to brush against Eggsy’s prostate.

       “More,” Eggsy breathes, grinding back into Harry’s touch.  “I can take more.  Please.”

       Harry hums and bends to lick a stripe up Eggsy’s cock, tongue flicking against his frenulum as he presses a third finger against Eggsy’s entrance.  “Are you sure?” he asks, his fingers a steady pressure against the fluttering hole.

       “Yes!” Eggsy huffs, spreading his legs even farther.  “I stretched myself a bit in the shower.  I can take three fin-”  The rest of Eggsy’s sentence was cut off as Harry pushed his fingers in one, steady push.

       Harry marvels at how Eggsy’s body seems to be made for him, how he seems to be made of heat and velvet and slickness.  He knows, without a doubt, that it will be utter perfection the first time he presses inside his boy, the first time they can properly join together.  It takes every ounce of self control that Harry has cultivated over his fifty-some years to take his time with his third finger, twisting and pressing and scissoring until Eggsy is all but sobbing beneath him.  

       After what feels like a millenia, Harry finally pulls his fingers from Eggsy’s body, staring as his slick hole flutters and gapes.  Eggsy whines at the loss, the sound getting swallowed into a heady moan when a slick hand wraps around his neglected cock.  

       “Are you ready, my dear one?” Harry asks, taking a few moments to slick his own erection.

       “God, yes,” Eggsy replies gazing up fondly at Harry.  

       Harry smiles and leans down to steal a kiss as he lines himself up, guiding Eggsy’s legs around his waist as he goes.  “Eyes on me,” he murmurs, pulling back enough so he can see Eggsy’s eyes.

       The air around them grows thicker as their gazes lock.  They are still for a moment, content with simply breathing the same air, their bodies nearly joined.  When their breathing evens out, Eggsy whimpers Harry’s name, and then Harry is pressing inside him, his own body yielding around Harry’s length, and the stretch is equal parts too much, not enough, and perfection.

       He is brought back to the moment when Harry presses gentle kisses to his eyelids, a lock of his chestnut hair tickling Eggsy’s forehead as he moves.  “There you are,” Harry murmurs, his voice soft and broken with what Eggsy has come to know as desire, and it makes his heart skip a frantic beat in his chest.  “I was worried I’d lost you.”

       “Mmm, never,” Eggsy says, looping his arms around Harry’s neck, fingers tracing the strong muscles of his shoulders.

       Harry smiles at him as if he’s the last precious thing on Earth, and with one more kiss, he’s moving inside Eggsy, pulling out slowly to press back in.

       They fall into a lazy rhythm, their bodies rocking against one another in search of pleasure.  Everything seems to build slowly; the air around them grows hotter, their bodies become slick with sweat, and ecstasy flows through their veins.  Before long, Eggsy breath is puffing hotly against Harry’s collarbone, and Harry’s fingers start to slip upwards from Eggsy’s hips.  

       “Harry,” Eggsy pants, eyes squeezing shut as his hands tighten on Harry’s shoulders.  “More.  Please, I need more.”

       Harry increases their pace, hooking one of Eggsy’s knees over his shoulder after a while, in search for a better angle.   With the next thrust in, he knows he’s found the right one, as he brushes the head of his cock against Eggsy’s swollen prostate and the boy keens and bucks beneath him.  “So beautiful,” he murmurs, turning his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to Eggsy’s knee.  

       “More, more, more,” Eggsy pleads, his blunt fingernails digging into the caps of Harry’s shoulders, imprinting ten, perfect crescent-moons into his flesh.  “I’m close.”

       Harry growls low in his throat, grips Eggsy’s hips hard, and nips at the mark just above the edge of Eggsy’s Caste collar.  “Come for me, my boy,” he orders, his voice husky and rough.  

       Eggsy whines beneath him, his back arching as his orgasm draws near.  Harry keeps pressing into him, his teeth darkening the mark on his neck as Eggsy’s chest heaves in an attempt to get more air into his lungs.  “C-Can’t,” he stutters, punctuating his word with a breathy moan.  “Need you to fuck me, Harry.  Please.”

       At Eggsy’s words, it is as if a switch inside Harry has been flipped.  Before Eggsy can gather his bearings, Harry has pulled out, flipped him over so that his arse is high in the air and his face is mashed into the cushions, and has pushed back in, hard and so much deeper than before.

       Eggsy keens as Harry sets a frantic pace, the blush on his face darkening as their bodies create an obscene symphony in their coupling.  He can feel Harry’s hipbones slap against the flesh of his arse, and the sting it creates only seems to drive his pleasure higher.  He knows he’s moaning Harry’s name in a perverted litany, but he’s too drunk on endorphins to care.  

       Harry spills inside him first, muffling his cry by sinking his teeth into the juncture where Eggsy’s neck meets his shoulder.  He thrusts lazily after his orgams has subsided, and absentmindedly reaches beneath Eggsy to wrap a hand around his erection.

       It only takes a few twists of Harry’s hand around the head of his cock before Eggsy is coming again, collapsing into the soiled cushions when his orgasm subsides.  He is mildly aware when when Harry eases him onto his side and presses up against him, wrapping his strong arms around Eggsy’s waist.  He sighs happily into one of the cushions he hadn’t soiled and smiles as he starts to doze.

       He wakes a few hours later, dry and warm and laying alongside Harry in his bed.  He stretches, and by the lack of a sticky smear between his thighs, Eggsy is just able to process the fact that Harry must have cleaned him up and carried him to bed.  He turns to face Harry and lies there for a while, studying the way his face flickers in the candlelight, smiling at the way Harry looks at peace while he sleeps.  Raising a hand to trace ever so gently down the middle of Harry’s chest, Eggsy closes his eyes and smiles; allowing himself to feel happiness for the first time in twelve years.  

       When his mother met Dean all those years ago, Eggsy thought he’d eventually be part of someone’s harem.  When his mother fled from Dean in the dark of the night with his sister, Eggsy thoughts had been confirmed, and he’d been subjected to years of training.  When Harry had come and packed him onto a camel and taken him home, he’d thought his worst nightmares were coming true, that he was just another pleasure slave in a rich man’s harem.

       Now, as he watches Harry murmur in his sleep, he realises that he could not have been more wrong about his fate.  While it is true that he is indeed a pleasure slave in a rich man’s harem, it is also true that the rich man is Harry, and that he keeps a very exclusive harem of one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I would like to thank my wonderful friend, Laura, for not only being a wonderful beta, but for being my own, personal cheerleader and ass-kicker as I struggled to finish this fic. You are a special friend that I am forever grateful for. I only wish that there were words ample enough to describe how blessed you've made me feel.
> 
> Second, I would like to thank everyone who has read Harem of One. I know I'm not the most frequent updater in the world, and my schedule is hectic at best, and nonexistent at the worst. It brings me great joy to know that something I've enjoyed writing has brought joy to others, and honestly, that's one of the best feelings in the world. Also on that note, I'd like to thank everyone who has left kudos and/or a review. Each time I get an email from the Archive, I smile a bit brighter (and scare my flatmate because he thinks it's creepy.)
> 
> Lastly, I would like to thank Jessica for bringing the Harem AU to my attention. I had been wondering if I should contribute to the Kingsman fandom, and when I saw that she wanted a story written, well, I felt compelled to sit down and write for the first time in six months. Now, looking back on the past month+ that I've been working on this thing, I have to admit that while it was hard, I am so glad I did it. 
> 
> I'd also like to use this space to announce that I'm partaking in the Camp NaNoWriMo this month with a (measly) goal of 20,000 words. I have another Hartwin AU next in my queue, so look out for it if you like the florist/tattoo artist AU! It'll probably be called "A Rose by Any Other Name" or something else equally cheesy. :)
> 
> ~Alex

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is so brief, but this seemed like a natural pausing point, and I wanted to get something out and published. This has not been beta'd, so any typos are mine ( if you find any, please let me know!)
> 
> Not sure how long this is going to be, but I'll make sure to update the tags/rating as necessary. As of now, I'm not sure where it stands... Cheers.


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